


But never doubt that I love

by Saymorian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, S3 spoilers, post series three
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1205368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saymorian/pseuds/Saymorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten months after Mary's death Sherlock shows up at John's flat. John hasn't seen the man since he got off the plane at the end of HLV and is rightly irritated.<br/>However he isn't the only one with something to say and when Sherlock accidentally lets his feelings slip John realises they have a lot to talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Shakespeare's Hamlet:  
> "Doubt thou the stars are fire,  
> Doubt that the sun doth move,  
> Doubt truth to be a liar,  
> But never doubt that I love."

The sound of his daughter crying pierced through the sleep John Watson had managed to force himself into. With a groan he sat up and scrubbed a hand across his face before switching on the bedside lamp. 

“Just coming s-” he broke off as he stood, blinking at the scene before him in the dim light “Sherlock?”

The world’s only consulting detective was sitting by his daughter’s crib, calming her. At the sound of his name he looked up.

“Ah John, I was hoping you wouldn’t wake.”

John stared, “How long have you been here?”                            

Sherlock didn’t answer for a moment, checking that Elizabeth was actually asleep before placing her down. After her death John had chosen Mary’s chosen middle name as her first would have been too painful a reminder.

“I came to see you after I finished up a case. It didn’t occur to me that you’d be asleep. I’m sorry.”

John opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. There was so much he wanted to say at once and he wasn’t sure where to start.

“Well I’m awake now so why don’t we have a proper talk about this. I’ll make some tea.”

The doctor led the way out of the bedroom and into the small kitchen in the flat he’d moved into after losing his wife. He hadn’t wanted to go back to the house and he wouldn’t have afforded it anyway, Mary’s presence was everywhere. Now ten months on he still couldn’t even think about her for too long, it was still too raw, the fact that even here her old life had managed to catch up with her.

It had turned out that although Moriarty hadn’t been back one of his major assassins had managed to slip past the radar of both Holmes brothers to post the message and later on to confront the late Mrs Watson.

As it happened as well as get John and Sherlock arrested for treason to the state Charles Augustus Magnussen had also got in touch with the assassin and told him about Mary.

John was doubly glad now that Magnussen was dead otherwise he’d have killed him himself.

Still that had been Sherlock. Who John had had to say goodbye to once more. Only to say hello five minutes later, he had to admit he’d been relieved Sherlock hadn’t been exiled after all, not after everything he’d done for the country and John. 

Not that he’d seen him after a brief hello. In fact even after he got off the plane Sherlock had seemed rather distant, barely responding to John’s hug and then he’d left with Mycroft.

John hadn’t seen him in a year and a half, at least until tonight. He’d been caught up in Mary’s pregnancy and then they’d had just a single month as a family. After that he’d been so wrapped up in his grief that he’d barely thought of the detective bar a couple of times when he couldn’t sleep at night.

Sherlock followed John into the other room and closed the door, when John opened his mouth to protest he wordlessly handed over the baby monitor.

The doctor nodded his thanks before speaking.

“So why now?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been over a year since I last saw you why did you come now?”

 “O,” Sherlock looked thoughtful, considering his answer “well I wanted to see how you were, as I say I forgot the time and then your daughter woke up and I thought maybe you could use the sleep and that I’d talk to you in the morning.”

John laughed derisively “Right.”

“It’s true I,” the taller man looked away a second “I thought you might need a friend.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows “A friend? Like you’ve been so good at that up ‘til now!”

An expression crossed the detective’s face that the other man couldn’t place before he replied coldly “Like I said at your wedding John you and Mary didn’t need me, she was pregnant and then even after she died there was still the baby to think of.”

“Didn’t need you?!” John felt his voice rising although he couldn’t control it “So you thought that when my wife died I wouldn’t need my best friend!”

“No!” Sherlock near shouted back at him

“No?! Well why the hell not!”

“Because I love you!”

John blinked, dumfounded “You – I - what?”

Sherlock got over the shock of what he’d let slip quickly and laughed bitterly “That’s right.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, steeling his resolve, before continuing on “Funny isn’t it, to find that even Sherlock Holmes can succumb to the base emotion of love. Well there you have it John Watson, you got into my heart. The one I proclaimed not to have!” the taller man found himself yelling, years of repressed emotion finally making their way to the surface “So don’t you tell me I haven’t been a good friend to you! I stood by your side and watched you get married to someone else, was that not enough? Excuse me if after all that I couldn’t bear to see you playing house with her while I watched on from the side lines with my unwanted and unrequited _feelings!”_

The detective was trembling with emotion as he stopped talking, his chest heaving as he stared down at the doctor. He ran a hand through his hair and swallowed. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse and rough “Christ John just, say something for god’s sake.”

The other man found he had trouble speaking past the lump in his throat, he could only whisper “Sherlock, I-”

“Don’t,” the detective had thrown his walls back up again and his face was emotionless “don’t bother,”

John could only watch in shock as the taller man turned and left the kitchen, the slamming of the door made him flinch and he heard Elizabeth begin to cry again.

He put his head in his hands and sighed, his life was a mess.


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock leaves John's flat and has a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second chapter. Sherlock centric and if I got him completely wrong I apologise, though Conan Doyle wouldn't have cared so I guess I can live with it.

Sherlock walked out of John’s building with a slight sense of déjà-vu. The annoying feelings he was having trouble repressing lately were the same ones he’d felt as he’d left John’s wedding. He was reminded of the words Mycroft had spoken to him years ago. _All hearts are broken, caring is not an advantage._ The fact that his brother had been right irked him.

He pulled his coat tighter around his body as he started to make his way back to Baker Street on foot. The several ways the next few days could go started running through his head. It was entirely possible he’d never see John again after the outburst. However the more hopeful side of his brain expected that John might come and visit him at some point to get him to talk about things. That was what he was like, the doctor, wanting to talk about things Sherlock would rather ignore.

The only thing he found himself unable to predict was what John would come to say. Before he’d left he’d once found himself wondering if a relationship was where they were headed but it had just been a passing thought, what with John contradicting everyone who suggested they were sleeping together and Sherlock focusing on his work.

It wasn’t actually until he’d had to leave his blogger that he’d realised he’d wanted anything more with him. It had taken a while for him to realise it, he’d thought a lot about the other man whenever he managed to find a few minutes of rest between dismantling Moriarty’s vast network. In fact sometimes the thought of returning to him was the only thing that kept him going in the darkest days of that time. That dismantling the network would mean that John was safe and that he could return to him.

Then he’d come back and found John about to ask a woman to marry him. At first Sherlock had just assumed Mary would be another in John’s string of failed relationships. As time went on he’d had to face the fact that John loved her and was going to marry her. He’d pushed his feelings aside in order to be best man.

He hadn’t actually meant to bring them up tonight, they’d just slipped out in his anger. Exactly the reason he’d learned to control them years ago, they clouded his mind.

Before he knew it he’d managed to cross a good part of London and was unlocking the door to 221 as the sun lit up the street.

He took the stairs two at a time, god he needed a cigarette, or maybe a packet. Now that John no longer lived with him it was much easier to hide them, Mrs Hudson could never find them.

He stood debating for a second, maybe something stronger than a cigarette would be better? He had some stored after all and it might help control his brain. But no, not yet, it was entirely possible John would show up and he would certainly not approve, he never had.

Not to mention he might need it if the talk with John went badly.

Lighting a cigarette he threw himself onto the sofa to think.

Sometime later, he wasn’t sure exactly how long but he was on to his twelfth cigarette, he heard footsteps. He sat up a little but realised it was just Mrs Hudson. She’d carried on her strange habit of bringing him tea every morning, he wasn’t entirely sure why but suspected it was because she had no children and was inclined to be sentimental.

“Woo-hoo.”

The consulting detective ignored her until she placed a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him.

He thought she was talking as well but was filtering her out. It was likely something about how he shouldn’t be smoking or maybe something about the number of them. He hummed once without listening.

He stubbed out his latest cigarette in the ashtray he’d never returned to Buckingham Palace. He sipped his tea and grimaced slightly, she’d never managed to make it as well as John.

Mrs Hudson passed him his phone before walking into the kitchen, probably to clean it. He just hoped she didn’t ruin his latest experiments, he really didn’t want to have to start them all over again.

Glancing down at the screen he saw a message from John.

_We need to talk. –JW_

Just as expected. He tapped back a quick reply after a moment’s contemplation.

_Baker Street 11am if convenient – SH_

Placing the phone next to the empty tea cup Sherlock stood. He hadn’t bathed since the case started a few weeks ago, at least he thought it had been that long, when he was on a case everything else became unimportant. 

He walked into the kitchen in time to prevent Mrs Hudson from throwing out his ear experiment. He’d been working on it for a week. She took some persuading but eventually he won and escaped into the bathroom.

Sinking into the hot water he began to wash away the grime from the last case. It had been a nine this time, he’d been incredibly grateful for that after a month of nothing higher than a six from Lestrade. Still he’d been taking whatever case he was offered, keeping himself busy had seemed a better option than going to see John. 

As he’d said at the flat, John didn’t need him, he had his family to think about. When he’d heard about Mary he’d wanted to go to him but he’d been worried he’d manage to ruin their friendship with his feelings while the other man was still grieving the woman he loved. He’d never been good with people.

Though sometimes he liked to imagine how it could be if John was still here, if he’d chosen Sherlock over Mary. The logical side of him scoffed at it but it was something that he couldn’t delete from the mind palace. It was actually that that he’d been looking for after he’d been shot but instead he’d opened the familiar door to find Mary, so he’d gone to Redbeard, the only other real friend he’d ever had.

Sherlock stepped out of his bedroom a few hours later pulling on his suit jacket. He buttoned it before switching on the kettle. He expected John would want tea and Mrs Hudson had been keeping the kitchen well stocked since the detective had returned.

Hearing the creak of the door he walked into the main room to see the man standing by the entrance.

“Hello John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, hope to see you at the next chapter, which again will be up as soon as I write it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up the next morning trying to get his head around what happened the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it finally is and this is turning out a lot longer than it was intended. I apologise but now that I'm free for summer I should start getting the chapters written sooner.  
> Also I feel I should say I actually kind of like Mary but this came to me so I wrote it.

*Five hours earlier*

John woke abruptly, sitting up straight in bed. Instinctively he glanced over to his daughter’s cot but she appeared to be sleeping soundly. He looked at his clock next, the illuminated numbers read 06:00. Must have been a nightmare that had woken him then, though it had since faded in his memory. They would return though, they always did. They’d grown more frequent after Mary’s murder; sometimes involving her, sometimes Sherlock and sometimes it was even memories of his military service. 

He sighed as he dropped back onto his pillows, he doubted he’d be able to sleep now anyway, it had taken long enough after Sherlock’s outburst. He’d stood in a state of shock before going through the motions of settling his daughter and making tea mechanically, his head whirring with all kinds of thoughts related to the consulting detective.  
Before everything that had happened with Moriarty John had thought perhaps he could see a way for them to be together, he’d been questioning his sexuality a little but had always repressed it because Sherlock seemed like the last person who’d be interested in a relationship more than what they had, he didn’t do feelings.

Then after the fall for the first year the doctor had repeatedly sat awake at night in the tiny flat he’d moved into to escape the constant reminder that Baker Street had become. For the most part he’d think about his former flatmate and his biggest regret is that he hadn’t said anything to him about changing their relationship. He’d been annoyed at himself for being so afraid, both of a relationship of a man and of being rejected and making their friendship awkward. 

When he met Mary he’d started to heal, he fell in love with her and decided it was time to put all of that behind him. Then the genius bastard had come back into his life again. It still made John laugh bitterly all this time later because of course he’d faked his death, Sherlock Holmes was not the sort of man to give up his work like that. The doctor had been reminded of the thoughts he’d been having about the other man but pushed them aside, he loved Mary, and he wasn’t going to give up what he had with her on the chance of something with a man who’d never shown any interest.

But what about now? That was the real question, the past was all done with, all John had to deal with now was what to do. He wished the idiot hadn’t stormed out, they could have spoken about it and decided how to move forward.

Did he love Sherlock? Four years ago he would have said he was getting there but now he wasn't so sure, after all it wasn't like he’d seen the man in a while. He guessed they’d never really got to know each other again after the sleuth had returned from the dead.

He guessed the best thing they could do now was talk about it with him. Sherlock in love with him, frankly the idea seemed rather ridiculous but then he supposed there had been signs. The best man’s speech he’d written was a bit of a give away but John supposed he hadn’t wanted to see it, having chosen Mary and married her, especially after Sherlock blurted that she was pregnant. 

He had to talk to Sherlock, locating his phone he sent off a quick text. A moment later his phone buzzed with a reply. Eleven, good, he had time to get ready. Dragging himself out of bed he located the baby monitors and switched them on. Keeping one in his hand he walked into the bathroom. Looking at his tired face in the mirror he wondered when his life had gotten so complicated. When he was young he figured he’d be in the army most of his life and somewhere along the way he’d find a woman to marry and start a family with. He decided the universe had a cruel sense of humour, given that he’d almost got the life he wanted, but with plenty of complications and it hadn’t even last a year.

Placing the baby monitor down he got into the shower and tried to think about how the conversation with Sherlock was going to go. Ten minutes later as he towelled himself off he still had no clue, he only hoped he’d know when he was looking at him, if that didn’t make it harder. Still he couldn’t leave it like this, especially after he’d apparently put the man through hell, not to mention John didn’t much like the idea of never seeing his former best friend again.

A while later he left his flat and decided to get a cab to Baker Street, he hated taking Elizabeth on the tube, if she was going to wake up and start crying he’d rather it was just them around. Other people tended to be irritated by crying children and this early in the morning there’d likely be many people on the way to work. Unfortunately it seemed traffic was not going to be on his side, giving him more time to worry about what would happen when he reached Baker Street.

After seemingly an age later they were there and John left the cab and approached the familiar black door with trepidation. He couldn’t even be sure Sherlock would answer and if he did what state would he be in. Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door, a few minutes later it swung inward and he found himself face to face with Mrs Hudson.  
“John!” She exclaimed in surprise

He smiled tightly, aware that it had been a while since he’d seen her as well. “Hello Mrs Hudson, is Sherlock in?”

He saw her frown slightly but she nodded and invited him in. She offered to look after Elizabeth, not having met her before. The doctor spoke his thanks before moving to ascend the stairs to 221b.

“Oh and John?”

He turned to face Mrs Hudson, who looked a mix between sad and angry “Don’t hurt him anymore,”

The doctor was shocked “Mrs Hudson I-”

She raised her hand and he closed his mouth, she continued “That man’s been through enough, not that I’m blaming you but I can’t bear to see him so unhappy anymore.”  
John smiled sadly, “I know Mrs Hudson, I’ll do my best.”

He started up the stairs, assaulted by memories of the many times he’d gone up before, often following Sherlock.

Upon reaching the top he pushed open the door to the flat to see Sherlock step into the room and hear that voice speak.

“Hello John”

“Hi Sherlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, see you next time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock talk about what happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this took longer than expected and I'm sorry about that but hopefully the chapter will make up for it.

John stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to say to break the silence. Sherlock got there first.

“Make yourself comfortable, I was making tea.” He said, avoiding the other man’s eyes as he motioned to the armchairs before heading back through to the kitchen.

John made his way further into the room and noticed that his armchair still rested where it used to even after all this time. The first time he’d moved out Sherlock had taken the opportunity to get rid of it, which made much more sense to him now. He settled into it with a soft sigh, remembering the first time. Back when he’d had a limp, one of the many ways Sherlock had improved his life. 

He thought of offering help but figured maybe the detective wanted a moment alone so stayed silent. 

He realised he felt nervous, an odd feeling to attribute to a conversation with the detective, years ago it would have seemed laughable. They had been best friends back then though, solving crimes, getting takeaways and arguing over the state of the kitchen. Things had seemed so much simpler, damn Moriarty for ruining their dynamic.

Still, he supposed it was possible they could return to that. Then again that likely wouldn’t be enough for the detective, honestly John didn’t know if it would even be enough for him. Maybe a relationship was the best way to move on form the past but how would they even go about it?

John was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the detective until he placed a tea tray down close to him. 

He waited for Sherlock to settle on his chair before speaking.

“So…” God this was awkward. “About last night?”

Sherlock looked up from his teacup and met John’s eyes although the doctor could see that he’d spent their time apart building up his emotional walls and he could read nothing from the blank facial expression. 

“Yes.” The voice was as smooth as ever “Well about that I feel I should apologise-”

“No.”

“-I should never have-” Sherlock blinked and stopped talking “I’m sorry?” he said slowly. 

John took a deep breath and let it out. He took his time with his response, choosing his words with care. “I’m not entirely sure you have much to be sorry about.”

For a second he thought he saw something in Sherlock’s eyes that could have been hope but it was covered quickly as the detective blinked. He made a ‘carry on’ motion with his hand but stayed quiet and sipped at his tea, not wanting to jump to a conclusion about anything.

John kept talking, determinedly keeping eye contact with the other man. “While it was a little shocking to have you show up out of the blue after so long, it could be for the best. After all I admit that before everything that happened with-” Here John found himself faltering a little, that was still one of the darkest parts of his life, even with Afghanistan. He glanced away from Sherlock as he spoke “With Moriarty.” He cleared his throat and moved on “Before that, there was something growing between us, despite my insistence that I wasn’t gay.” 

Sherlock let out a short huff of a laugh and John looked up at him with a wry smile.

“Yeah, sorry about all that. It was just something new for me and a little frightening if I’m honest. You know how much I care about what others think.”

Sherlock pressed his palms together under his chin and studied John intensely “So, what are you saying?”

John considered and decided to go for it “That if there was something there before it’s possible that there could be something again.”

Sherlock blinked rapidly a couple of times and for a second John was worried he’d made his brain freeze up again, then his face broke out into one of his rare genuine smiles.

“Well I have to say that once again John Watson you have managed to surprise me.”

John gave a sigh of relief and laughed. “So it’s a good day then.”

They laughed together and for a moment it was as if they’d never been apart, like it was when they’d been falling in love without any complications. 

But things were different now, they’d have to build a new foundation with a different relationship.

“So,” John started, causing Sherlock to stop laughing and look at him with something that could almost be wonder. “Sherlock Holmes I propose that we start dating.”

Sherlock smiled again “I accept your proposal, it seems logical after all, what with our time away from one another, we need to get to know each other again.”

John returned the smile “Excellent, so Angelo’s at eight?”

Sherlock nodded, “I’ll tell Lestrade I am unavailable for consultation tonight.”

“Great, I’d best go home and change then.” John stood and Sherlock mimicked him “but first,” he stepped around the table the tea rested on “there’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long,” he stepped closer to Sherlock “long time,” 

He reached up slowly so as not to startle the detective and gripped the lapels of Sherlock’s black suit jacket. He pulled him down softly until their faces were mere inches apart.

“Do you mind?” John murmured

Sherlock suddenly found himself breathless looking into the eyes he’d admired for so long, he managed to force the words “Not at all.” from his lips before John’s pressed against them.

It was everything he’d wanted it to be and nothing like it at all, his brain jumped into overdrive and he started copying the small pressure and movements John was making to reciprocate the first kiss he’d enjoyed in a very long time.

They both pulled away a little after a while but not so far as to give Sherlock’s heart reason to stop racing. He wanted to kiss John again but realised that if he did he’d find himself unwilling to stop and he was faintly aware that society dictated a minimum of three dates before that sort of behaviour was acceptable.

Eventually John cleared his throat and stepped back, releasing the Sherlock’s suit jacket and allowing him to drop his own hands, though he couldn’t remember wrapping them around the other man.

John grinned “So eight?”

Sherlock returned it “I’ll see you there.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. The next chapter will be up as soon as I finish it.


End file.
